


You Ask My Name (and All I do is Listen)

by GillyTweed



Series: You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Black Blood isnt a thing here, Canon-Typical Violence, Clarke starts out as a little bit of a dick in this, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Injured lexa, Injury, Lexa is an emotionally fragile bean, Masks, Sleepy Cuddles, after season 2, before season 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-15 13:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7224493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillyTweed/pseuds/GillyTweed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the wake of the mountains defeat, the Ice Nation attacked while the Commander and her Coalition was weak, leaving Clarke to do as she pleases. One day, her solitude is shattered by the sudden appearance of a very injured Commander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is 100% written, so there shouldn't be too long of a wait between chapters. (I'm thinking I'll post one chapter a day) There is no Black Blood in this fic because it just made things complicated.

You Ask My Name (and All I Do is Listen)

Pairing: Clexa

Rating: Children be Wary (K+)

The rain was pounding. Had she not been covered from head to toe in leather and furs, Clarke was certain her skin would have been dotted with bruises long before she’d even gotten to the trading post. She’d needed a new clay cup after she had stupidly knocked her last one over, but now she was debating if the trip had been really worth it. She had gotten the cup, sure, but now she was trudging back to her little cave through freezing rain, getting soaked to the bone. She paused for a moment to catch her breath, leaning over and supporting herself on her knees. As she remained still, she allowed the sounds of the forest to wash over her. The pounding of the rain against leaves and wood, the rustle of the wind through wet foliage, the distant chirping of birds, the sound of someone stumbling through the underbrush….

Clarke straightened slowly, remaining quiet. Turning at a snail’s pace towards the sudden noise, she scored the surrounding forest with her eyes in an attempt to locate the obnoxious perpetrator that had disturbed her brief peace. She caught sight of one, no two, figures tripping through brush, obviously trying to remain quiet and on the small path they had found. They looked as though they were drunk, leaning to one side every so often, then suddenly righting themselves.

She focused on the figures, trying to see through the obscuring sheets of rain. The lead figure was slim, and shorter than their companion, gender ambiguous to the passing gaze, while the follower was larger, broader, and obviously male. They appeared to be warriors. Clarke could see weapons peaking out from across their hunched shoulders. She paused, shivering as she considered this. Clarke knew that there was interclan conflict going on. The Trading Posts were great places to learn of such things. The Ice Queen and the Azgeda had declared war on the Coalition and the Commander now that they no longer feared the shadow of the Mountain. The Ice Nation, being so far in the north, had taken the fewest casualties during the conflict with the Mountain, and the Queen had taken advantage of this, hitting the villages that lined her borders hard, while the other nations had their warriors exhausted and scattered. If the people she was observing were indeed warriors, they could have come from a conflict on the border. They were travelling south after all.

Clarke continued to observe, undetected, as the warriors slowly made their way below the ridge she had stopped on, Trikru markings becoming more apparent with every step. They limped on. That is until the back warrior falters, tripping and falling, making no attempt to get up. The front warrior turns, hood and cloak fluttering, and shakily treks back for their compatriot. The slim warrior kneels, body trembling as it attempts to remain upright. They check their partners pulse, form sagging as they appear to feel nothing. With wobbly hands they cut a braid off of the mans tangle of thick hair, tucking it somewhere inside their cloak. With a visible breath, the small warrior heaved them self up, attempting to continue to their destination. They dragged their feet several more steps, placing them directly under Clarke. She could now see small drips of dark blood dropping onto the ground, mingling with the rain, creating a crimson trail.

She debated on intervening, helping the obviously wounded warrior. The doctor and healer within urged her to help, to heal, but the desire for solitude and isolation deadened her movements, forcing her to remain still to continue observing.  

Only when the small warrior finally fell did she move. The cloaked form fell to their knees, then tipped forward, torso falling with a splash into a shallow puddle. Clarke adjusted the bag on her hip to keep it secure, then slid down the ridge, biting her tongue to keep herself from calling out. If she was quick and quiet, maybe she could save them, bandage their wounds and leave them somewhere for their clansmen to find them. She hoped that could be the case. It would ease her conscience and it would allow her to continue remaining unseen and in seclusion. Kneeling down next to the warrior, she pulled back the hood and recoiled violently, falling back against the mossy rocks of the ridge.

Lexa.

The girl who had betrayed her and broke her heart lay before her, wounded and bleeding. A mixture of rage and concern flooded her being. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the girl’s face, furrowed in pain and splattered with blood and war paint, the brunette looked as though she had gone through hell and had just barely come out the other side.

‘Good, she deserves it for what she did.’

The blonde’s hands hovered over the other girl’s body, half way between being splayed wide and clenched into fists, creating claws out of her fingers that itched to tear into the form laying defenseless at her feet. Rage boiled beneath the surface, urging her to hurt, kill, destroy the reason for all her pain…

But the sight of blood and rain streaming in rivulets down Lexa’s face and the small wisps of steam that signaled shallow breathes locked her in place. Clarke sat, shaking, caught in a conflict within herself. Her pain and rage fought tooth and nail against her compassion and urge to heal the injured. A low growl rumbled in her chest. The vibrations tore at her throat, making it ache. The sensation gave her focus. Breathing deeply, she observed Lexa.

The older girl was laying face down, body battered and beaten, head resting in an indention within the earth. The impression was shallow, but filling with water quickly. Clarke watched as the water gathered around Lexa’s head. If she just left… If she just left, the puddle would grow, covering the Commanders face. The blonde would tell that being as injured as she was, the brunette wouldn’t wake up before she drowned. All she had to do was leave. Or even stay, and watch as the most powerful person on the continent drowned pathetically in three inches of water.

The liquid would slowly rise, fill her mouth and nose, blocking all air flow. Her body would cough and convulse, to expel the deadly substance, to wake up its host so it could move away. But she wouldn’t. She would lay there; Clarke was certain. She would lay there as her body shut down, unaware of the danger, unaware of the pain. She would die, and Clarke would be rid of her.

‘Or you could save her.’

A quiet voice that sounded suspiciously like her father called in the back of her mind. Clarke clenched her jaw, the muscles aching as she debated to herself.

‘Everyone deserves a second chance.’

The blonde groaned to herself, continuing to watch as the water slowly rose. Lexa’s breath created ripples on the liquids surface, signalling that a decision needed to be made. Clarke squeezed her eyes shut tightly, willing her thoughts to war faster. Only the tell tale sound of Lexa coughing forced her into action.

“Damnit, I’m gonna regret this later.”

She grumbled sourly as she scooped her arms under Lexa’s limp form, and heaving her over her shoulder. She could decide whether to kill her or not later. Right now, what mattered was getting out of the rain.

The Commander was heavy, weighed down by rain and wet furs and armour. The surprising weight made Clarke consider just dropping her and walking away, but her conscience wouldn’t let her. Grumbling, she trudged towards her cave.

“To the Clarke Cave, wooo.”

Her tone was thick with sarcasm and bitterness. Normally the time it took her to reach her secret abode from the Trading Post would just barely exceed ten minutes, but with the extra weight it took her over twice the time.  The cave was more of a tunnel, cracked into the side of a cliff, it extended into the rock face several meters and then widened slightly, creating a tiny room that was just barely bigger than the cell she had been kept in on the Ark. She had discovered it within the first week or so of her self imposed exile, and had in the following months made it rather comfortable.

Bundles of herbs hung drying from the ceiling, a fire pit had been scrapped out of the sandy floor, and a bed had been created from a pile of furs. It was this bed that Clarke unceremoniously deposited Lexa on, breathing heavily, trying to get air back into her crushed lungs. She sat down heavily in the makeshift chair she had made from piled sand. She ran her hand through her berry dyed hair, sighing when red came off on her hand. Or was that blood. She couldn’t really tell.

Clarke looked over at the form curled on her bed, once again debating with herself. She should probably tend to the other girl’s wounds or the effort she had expended to carry her to the cave would be wasted. Of course, that could wait a moment until she could breathe normally again.

Leaning back for a moment, she allowed herself to rest, fingers toying with the carved wood that she had left next to the chair. She didn’t have the resources to paint or draw, so she had taken up carving. Despite having cut herself several times and sacrificing literal blood to her projects, she had finally produced a product she was happy with. The large chunk of wood had been whittled down, and shaped. It looked almost like a skull, which had inspired her to attach a leather strip to create a mask. It cradled the bottom half of her face, reaching up above her nose and resting on her cheekbones. She had debated on selling it, but had become surprisingly attached. Laying it on her face, she let it rest there, not bothering with the strap, and closing her eyes. There were holes that let her breath where the nose would be, letting her smell the soothing scent of sanded wood. Breathing deeply, she opened her eyes again, sitting up and letting the mask fall off.

Heaving herself off the chair, she quickly gathered stripes of cloth, water, bandages, herbs and a needle and thread. Settling herself next to her patient, she got to work. Methodically, she stripped the other woman down, removing her armour, leather coat and weapons, leaving her in bindings and boy short like underwear. Cuts littered her arms, torso and legs, oozing blood sluggishly. With how many wounds there were, it was surprising nothing vital had been hit. Forcing herself to focus and ignore who exactly it was she was working on, she began going through the motions. Cleaning the wounds, stitching them shut if necessary, rubbing a disinfecting herb paste on the wound, then bandaging firmly. The process was soothing. Familiar.

As she worked, her hands glided over bruised skin, dark patches and angry red welts mottled the normally smooth surface, creating a mosaic of blues and yellows and sickly greens. She could feel the flesh swelling along the brunette’s ribs, where an expansive welt spanned from her side to her sternum, almost as if some, someone incredibly strong, had hit her with a hammer, crushing her torso. Feeling along the afflicted area, the young healer could confidently determine, with how her breathing was rather regular, that her patient’s ribs were most likely only bruised.

Moving on to other injuries, Clarke gently prodded at Lexa’s hair line, where a lines of blood had streamed down and crusted on her face, making it seem as though she were crying rivulets of red. Finding the split flesh rather shallow, she forwent any stitches, only wrapping a strip of cloth around the wound after disinfecting it like the rest of the cuts. Next, gently taking the brunettes face in her hands, she slowly slid up an eyelid revealing a green iris, angling it to catch the last of the dying sunlight, and watched as the pupil retracted into a small point, responding to the brightness. For some reason, Clarke felt relief at knowing there wasn’t any sign of brain damage, but before she could think on it, she pushed the emotion down.

Finished bandaging the last of the severe wounds, she sat back on her heels, gazing at her work. The injured girl looked more bandage than person at this point. Both arms wrapped from wrist to shoulder, stomach to collarbone, one leg from mid thigh to lower calf. Leaning over the brunette, she gently pressed her fingers to her pulse. It beat regularly, if a little weak. Nodding to herself, she drew her arm back to her body. Turning, she started up the fire, scraping a flint stone against the metal of her knife, showering sparks over dry tinder. She was so engrossed in her task that she almost didn’t realize that Lexa was slowly stirring. Her heart jolted in her chest.

‘I can’t…I’m not ready to talk to her! I have to run or hide or…’

Thinking quickly, she lunged for her mask, slipping it on and throwing her hair over the exposed parts of her face. She felt reassurance as the mask slipped over her features. Anonymity made her calmer, bolder. Lexa continued to stir, eyes flickering under their lids. After a moment, her eyes opened, staring blearily up at the jagged stone of the caves roof. Turning her head, she caught sight of Clarke, or rather her mask, and jerked back, trying to get away, winced and collapsed back into the furs weakly. Breathing a sigh of relief at not being recognized, she inched closer. Slowly, in an attempt not to startle her, Clarke reached over and retrieved the clay cup she had traded for, now full of water, and offered it to the injured brunette. When she didn't attempt to take it, Clarke moved forward. Knowing the injured girl needed to drink to replenish her lost blood, the blonde lifted her as she struggled weakly, bringing the cup to her lips.

Lexa continued to struggle stubbornly, pushing pathetically against the cup. Honestly, did she think she think she was trying to poison her? Clarke could have killed her at any time. She scowled under her mask.

‘I should have just killed her.’

She thought grudgingly. As Lexa continued to act like a small child, Clarkes frustration grew, making her growl deep in her chest; the only evidence of irritation she was willing to show the infuriating girl. Surprisingly, the growl caused Lexa to stiffen, wary of the threatening sound.

‘Well, that worked surprisingly well.’

Clarke mused as she once again pushed the cup against the brunette’s lips. She drank with little resistance, filling Clarke with inexplicable satisfaction. She held Lexa’s life in her hands and the feeling of control gave her a rush. A slight whimper from the body in her arms, snapped Clarke from her thoughts. Loosening her suddenly tight grip, the rush of power quickly turned to guilt as Lexa shivered in pain against her. Setting the cup aside, and gently laid the brunette back against the furs, and gently massaged the wound on her ribs in apology. She refused to abuse the position she was in. Lexa had toyed with her emotions and betrayed her at the mountain, but Clarke refused to sink so low that she found pleasure in harming her, despite the constant urge to do so.

Sighing, she turned back to the fire to prepare some food. She knew she would need her energy, as did Lexa. Lexa, for healing, and herself for fueling the battle of emotions within herself.


	2. You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lexa talks, and Clarke listens, and everyone has an emotional breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have found my writing niche. Beating up/injuring/maiming a character then having their significant other nurse them back to health. Side packages can include fluff, angst, emotional trauma and other such tropes. Is this a business spiel? Probably.

You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Chapter 2

Pairing: Clexa

Rating: Children be Wary (K+)

Within the first forty-eight hours of their odd circumstances, they had established a shaky routine. In the mornings, Clarke would carry Lexa outside, letting her do her business in peace, but staying near should she need help. They then would have a breakfast of either salted or roasted meat, along with some foraged vegetables from the surrounding area. And after that Lexa would rest while Clarke, constantly wearing her mask, went about doing things as she saw fit until dinner time rolled around. The blonde had remained silent ever since the other girl had become a guest in her cave, only communicating in gestures and ambiguous grunts. After the initial shock from the mask had worn off, Lexa had accepted everything quickly, only attempting to strike up a conversation, in Trigedasleng, to ask to return to her people, a few times before taking the hint.

Thankfully, the day before she had found Lexa, Clarke had caught a rather large deer, allowing her to stock up on meat enough that she wouldn’t have to leave her cave for weeks before needing to hunt again. Thus, this left her with quite a bit of free time that would normally be spent hunting. She was rather thankful for her fortune as well, the rain had continued to pour, giving her no incentive to leave. It also gave her time to work on carving.

Rather than wood however, she had moved onto bone. Currently, she was meticulously scraping a rib bone of the deer, smoothing it and preparing the surface for the details she was slowly designing in her mind. Lexa lay across from her, watching silently, listening to the steady sound of the scraping. Clarke had managed to convince her to take some herbs to reduce her pain, making her sleepy and thoughts sluggish. The sounds of carving seemed to be slowly lulling her into sleep.

“ _Why save me?”_

Clarke stopped carving, partially surprised at Lexa speaking to her, and partially surprised she understood what she was saying. In the last three months she had learned just a bit more than the basics of Trigedasleng from the people that worked at the Trading Posts she visited, so she felt pride in understanding the sudden sentence. She responded with a shrug and returned to carving. She had remained dressed in her thick furs, despite being very warm in them, cloaking her body and hopefully making it harder to identify her.

“ _Why wear the bone mask?”_

She paused again and looked Lexa in the eye. She hadn’t understood the last word, but had figured it out with the context of the others. To be honest, she wore the mask for the courage it gave her, freeing her from the disadvantage of being known. With her mask, she was an enigma, a stranger, Lexa knew nothing of her, and she knew at least some things about Lexa. All considering, she didn’t know much about the other girl, in spite of having worked and been together for close to three weeks straight before the battle of the Mountain. It also bought her time. Time to make her decision of whether to kill Lexa, reveal herself, or heal the other woman and let her go on her merry way being none the wiser of her true identity. It was conflicting and the mask gave her a shield from it.

Realizing she had been looking at the other girl for much longer than intended, she returned to carving. The silence returned for a while, only filled with the crackling of the fires flames and the steady grinding of metal on bone. It seemed Lexa’s medicine idled brain needed to fill the silence, because she soon began talking once again, but this time not hoping for any answers.

_“I wish we had run across you sooner. My warriors might have lived then.”_

She spoke slowly, words slightly slurred. A fact that Clarke was appreciative of. It made her task of translating easier.

_“I should have taken the shorter route. I was stupid, blindly hoping.”_

Behind her mask, Clarke’s face twisted in confusion. What had she been hoping for? To find a healer by chance?

_“This area is near the Skykru…”_

Lexa mumbled her words, trailing off, but Clarke silently willed her to continue, her interest piqued. What did this have to do with her people?

_“I thought, no, blindly hoped that I would run into Clarke…”_

The blondes heart stopped in her chest, halting her breath. With the greatest amount of will power she has ever mustered, she forced herself to not react externally, continuing the motion of her arm, scraping the bone smooth. Why would Lexa want to find her? Sure, she was a healer, but betting on finding her when she had gone AWOL gave a slim chance of surviving. If there had been a shorter route to their camp, the smartest move would have been to take that than hope to find a healer in the middle of the forest.

_“I let my desire to see her blind me, costing my warriors their lives…. And now I have to live with that.”_

This new information was freaking Clarke out. She wasn’t a psychiatrist, damnit. She hadn’t even said anything the entire time Lexa had been with her. Apparently the herbs she had given the brunette had made her unbelievably chatty, because she continued.

_“As I have to live with my decision to abandon the one I love in the face of certain death.”_

Clarke pauses at this, unable to not look at the girl across the fire from her. The brunette was staring up at the ceiling, tears visibly sliding down her face, but her voice sounded calm, if a bit stifled. She threw her arm over her eyes with a grimace.

_“I am so sorry, Clarke.”_

She whispered, most likely not intending for the stranger across the cave from her to hear, but she did and the blondes heart burned. The war within herself roared to life once again, rising from the embers it had died down to in the last couple days. Her heart ached for Lexa, and for herself. Lexa’s tears were for her, and it made Clarke feel the overwhelming desire to comfort the older girl. To wipe away the tears and to assure her everything was alright. Her throat hurt as she swallowed thickly. An acidic feeling boiled in her chest, making her feel sick, but she also felt fury race through her like a wildfire, raging through her veins, hungrily devouring each nerve within its inferno. She had still abandoned her despite loving her, and it enraged her. Had this been how Dad had felt when Mom had turned him in? Betrayed, hurting, furious? The only difference was she had survived her partner’s betrayal. The blonde curled into herself. The comparison felt like a physical blow, twisting and bruising her insides, making her feel the urge to vomit.

Breathing deeply, but quietly, she fought to regain control of herself. She couldn’t give away her identity yet. Not when she was still so conflicted, so unsure. Forcing her body to straighten, she sat up with a hiss, uncurling from her hunched position to look at Lexa.

The brunette still had her arm over her eyes, but she breathed deeply, sleeping and obviously exhausted from her emotional display. Pushing herself up onto her knees, Clarke inched over to check the brunette over, feeling a surge of grudging concern. Blood had seeped through the bandage on the arm thrown over her face, mixing blood with her tears. Sighing, the blonde lifted the arm and began the process of fixing the popped stitches and re-bandaging the wound. A calm overcame her at the familiar motions.

In the few hours she had been healing, Lexa had recovered quite quickly. Smaller cuts were already showing signs of scaring, while the larger wounds had closed, but she was far from being well enough to travel long distances. A couple weeks, and she could probably make the trip to Polis, the healer determined. That is if she kept healing at this rate. Returning the now freshly bandaged arm to its owner’s side, Clarke felt her emotions surge once again.

Why? Why did it have to be her? Why was she the one who got betrayed, backstabbed and blamed at every turn and then expected to keep trying, to keep forgiving? It wasn’t fair. Sitting down, she huffed. Clarke knew she was acting a bit irrationally but she couldn’t supress the resentment she felt at the world, at the girl laying beside her, unaware of the turmoil in her caretaker. The tension within her built, until she couldn’t hold it anymore and she slumped over, tears streaming down her face, gathering in the grooves of her mask.

She lay curled half on the bed, half off, her torso creating a barrier around Lexa’s head. She shook with the force of her emotions, the sadness choked her, the rage squeezed her lungs, and the stress of the past year locked her limbs, leaving her a sniffling, shivering, mess. Sudden exhaustion crashed over her, forcing her tense muscles to relax and the havoc of her mind to fade behind a wave of thick fog. Her eyes sagged, and sleep tugging at her awareness. Tired of fighting, tired of being angry and hurt, she gave in.

 

* * *

 

Clarke woke to an ache in her back and a stabbing pain in her cheek. Sitting up, she became more aware of her surroundings. She had fallen asleep, half on the pile of furs, explaining her back, and her mask had decided to shift and stab her in the face as she slept. The blonde was infinitely thankful that Lexa hadn’t woken up before her. With how her mask had shifted, the brunette would have easily been able to identify Clarke, especially with how close they had fallen asleep from each other. Shuffling tiredly way from Lexa, she felt drained. Her emotional breakdown the night before had taken its toll.

Clarke was tired. Tired of being angry, tired of betrayal, tired of feeling her emotions surge at even the very thought of the injured girl resting in her bed. She almost wished she could be numb to it all, to feel none of the anguish. Almost.

Despite having spent months in the forest, her demons hadn’t left her. If anything they had grown closer to her, crawled inside and corrupted her until all she could feel was anger, pain and regret. But she knew if she didn’t carry the burden of these emotions, another would have to, so she staved off the numbness that crept at the edges of her mind, letting her demons tear at her ruthlessly, and through it all, the only comfort she had was in the words of her enemy.

“I bear it, so they don’t have to.”

She breathed the words quietly, almost in reverence. They were her last lifeline in her harsh reality. A groan from Lexa forced her to snap her mouth shut, but the words still reverberated through her mind, repeating like a mantra, calming the storm within herself so she could be the person Lexa needed her to be, a healer, a care taker, and a protector. Something the brunette had failed to provide her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to talk fanfic with me, feel free to come find me on tumblr under GillyTweed.


	3. You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some cuddling, some nostalgia, and Clarke lying to herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found the name Oyen through google translate, it's based off the Spanish word for listener. If I'm completely wrong feel free to tell me.

You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Chapter 3

Pairing: Clexa

Rating: A-okay for kiddies (K)

Several days had passed since her breakdown. Lexa had slept peacefully through it, but had woken to find her caretaker subtly different. While the days went much the same, going through the motions of their regular routine, her caretaker, whom she had taken to affectionately calling Oyen, or Listener, had changed. It was subtle, almost unnoticeable. They seemed to almost become gentler in their duties as her healer. Picking her up like she was made of glass, and hovering a little closer, but still at a respectful distance, than usual as she bathed in the slowly moving shallows of a nearby river. It was an odd shift in paradigm but welcome none the less.

While Lexa basked in the comfort Oyen brought to her, Clarke had made her decision. She would not kill Lexa. While her rage was strong, her desire for revenge had died the day the brunette had cried for her. She no longer felt the urge to tear at the flesh that she had sewn shut, or the urge to reveal herself in the Commanders weakest moments, something that would truly break the older girl. Although she felt no desire to forgive, to release her resentment for Lexa’s abandonment, she did feel that the brunette was worthy of the chance to atone, to earn forgiveness. Thus, Clarke had decided to heal her, so she would receive that chance, and therefore she treated her with care.

It had grown colder as time went on, summer months having already bled into autumn, and now the harsh bite of winter slowly started to invade the caves confines as Clarke stoked the fire. The blonde herself was still warm, having rarely taken her thick furs off since bringing Lexa to her home, but the distinct sound of chattering teeth sounded throughout the small space. With the injuries she had sustained, the stubborn warrior in her bed couldn’t maintain a healthy temperature. So, with quick movements, Clarke had piled as many furs and blankets on the cold girl as she could, then had stacked more wood on the fire, which was, unfortunately, the last of their stock pile.

Sighing, Clarke peered down the caves tunnel, catching sight of large blobs of snow falling slowly to the ground. While she would be excited, seeing as it was her first snowfall, she only felt exasperation. Lexa really didn’t need the cold right now. It would slow her healing. Sitting back on her heels, Clarke looked over at the shivering brunette. She lay on a narrow, but thick bed of furs. Blankets were wrapped around her body to the point where she almost looked like a burrito. Only parts of her face were visible, the skin tinged red by the chilly air.

Sighing again, Clarke stood and stretched, cracking her joints as she moved to the entrance of the cave. She needed to collect more firewood before the snow soaked it all. She knew leaving the brunette was probably not the best idea at the moment, but if she didn’t, both of them would freeze. She trudged into the falling whiteness, shivering as a chill wind cut through her furs. Grabbing sticks as she went, she set a course for the river. Might as well kill two birds with one stone and refill her canteen. The journey wasn’t long, but it still allowed her mind to wander. And of course, it wandered to thoughts of her patient.

In the days that she had been in Clarke’s cave, Lexa had relaxed and opened up rather quickly. It could be that Lexa was truly comfortable with Oyen, or it could have been the relatively steady doses of herbs Clarke had been giving her, but after a while, she had started telling stories. She spoke of legends she had learned during her life, and stories of her childhood, and even some stories that Clarke herself had been apart of. It had been nice, learning about Lexa. She had also learned things she hadn’t expected to, like how the brunette didn’t like blueberries, or that her favourite past time had been swimming. When she hadn’t been Heda, of course. It made the brunette seem more real, more human, and knowing all these things, yet not sharing anything in return gave Clarke a feeling of guilt, which only grew stronger as more was revealed. She was certain Lexa wouldn’t divulge nearly as much information if she knew who Oyen really was.

Her thoughts came to an end as she reached the bank of the river. The small slope that lead down to the waters edge was slick with moisture, making it difficult to get down. Clarke nearly slipped more than once, but some how miraculously managed to get to the edge without losing her sizable pile of sticks or skidding into the chilly water. Filling her canteen, she glanced around. The snow was falling harder now, covering every surface with its frigid softness. Sealing the container, she hoisted her bundle of fire wood over her shoulder with haste. With how the weather had worsened, it would be wise to return to the cave quickly. And to check on Lexa; even though Clarke couldn’t feel it very much, she was certain the temperature had dropped further.

Scrambling up the bank of the river, she jogged back to the cave. A feeling of unease had settled in her stomach, and as she neared the cave, it only seemed to grow worse. Adjusting her mask as she slid inside the caves interior, her gaze sought the figure laying in her bed. Lexa appeared fine at first glance which alleviated the blondes immediate sense of danger. The brunette weakly lifted her head, eyes foggy, to gaze at the other occupant of the cave.

_“Oyen, where did you go?”_

Her voice was filled with a slight amount of worry, as though she feared abandonment in her weakened state. It made Clarke’s rigid posture soften, and as she set down the pile of fire wood in its proper place, she couldn’t resist the urge to lightly pat Lexa’s head, as though to say ‘I am here, do not worry.’ She hears a sigh of relief at the gesture as the older girl relaxes back into the furs and returned to her shivering. Even covered by an almost absurd amount of furs and blankets, Lexa couldn’t seem to get warm. Her body trembled with cold, making Clarke frown with concern. The fire was still burning rather strongly, so if she didn’t warm up soon, she could develop more severe symptoms of hypothermia.

She clenched her jaw. The only other source of heat was Clarke herself, and she hesitated on whether to accept the fact that, for Lexa to survive, she would probably have to share her warmth with the brunette. In the whole time they had been living in the cave, contact had been restricted to what was necessary, and generally short lived. While the situation would deem it necessary, the blonde gnawed her lip in indecision. She wasn’t overly worried about what Lexa would think; the brunette would accept the necessity and move on. She was more worried about what the close contact would do to herself. The last time they had been close in any intimate form was the kiss they had shared before the battle of Mount Weather, and the possibility of having that intimacy again scared her. She swallowed thickly as she stood watching Lexa shudder, the tremors seeming to become more violent as the cold worsened.

She breathed deeply, trying to clear her mind. Cold air stung her nose, and rushed from the cracks of her mask in a rush of steam. Lexa needed her help, she decided. With any luck it would only be once, and then everything would go back to normal. Back to the easy distance that they had maintained.

As she tried to convince herself of this, she stripped off her heavy furs, leaving her in her long sleeved undershirt and pants. The cold soon attacked her skin, biting with its chill and making it harder to breath with its heaviness. Swiftly, she placed her outer clothes, near the fire to keep them warm, then slid under the pile of furs nearest to the wall. Lexa jerked awake from the light doze she had managed to slip into while Clarke had debated with herself. Groaning slightly, she turned so she faced the blonde, her back to the roaring fire. She blinked groggily, she tried to comprehend what was happening as shivers continued to seize her muscles.

_“Oyen, are you okay?”_

Her voice was scratchy with exhaustion, yet her concern for her caretaker was evident. The sentiment gave Clarke a warm feeling, a rush of affection heating her face, despite knowing that the concern wasn’t really for her, but for the one known as Oyen. Nodding her head to indicate that she was indeed fine, she than pointed at Lexa and shook her head in a negative fashion, hoping the message would be conveyed. Luckily, it seemed to as the brunette furrowed her brow and frowned.

_“I am not okay?”_

Clarke nods and opens her arms slightly, hoping the other girl would get the hint and their game of charades wouldn’t last too much longer. Inching over with little hesitation, Lexa settled into the embrace. Her skin was frigid against the blondes, making her suddenly glad about her decision. The brunette burrowed into Clarkes hold, resting her forehead against her collarbone. A relaxed hum resounded from the form in the blonde’s arms.

_“So you are a woman. I wasn’t certain, but you seemed much more gentle than any man that I have ever known.”_

In the back of her mind, Clarke felt that she should probably feel some form of embarrassment, but couldn’t bring herself to feel anything other than affection and a slight feeling of exasperation mixed with pride. The exasperation because Lexa had to comment on this new discovery, and pride because it proved her disguise had worked rather well thus far. Letting out a slight huff, she pulled the blankets up to her shoulder, covering all of the brunette, other than the top of her head. Resisting the urge to rest her chin on Lexa’s head, knowing her mask would make it difficult, Clarke attempted to relax.

As moment’s passed, the older girl’s shivers slowed, as did her breathing, until she was sleeping peacefully in her masked caretaker’s arms. Clarke, however, remained wide awake, all to aware of the body pressed into hers. The gentle rise and fall of the brunette’s sides as she breathed, the rhythmic rushes of air against her collarbone as Lexa exhaled. It was both bliss and torture.

To feel the girl, she had grown so attached to, be so close felt wonderful, and right, but it also reminded her of what could have been, and the events that prevented it. It made her feel conflicted, and with the new rush of emotion, exhausted. Lexa sighed sleepily and pressed further into Clarkes torso, drawing her attention from her roaring thoughts.

Looking down at the brunette, the blonde felt another rush of affection, and a sense of longing. The relationship they had had before the Mountain had filled her with hope. It was something to look forward to after the battle, something to fight for. Which made it hurt all the more when it had all been torn away. She may long for what could be, but was now wary of its outcome.

Breathing deeply, she ran her fingers through the brown locks of her companion. At the action, Lexa’s face seemed to relax even further as a sense of inner calm made Clarkes eyelids heavy as well. Her eyes continued to close as time went on, the peaceful and repetitive motions lulling her into sleeps hold. She could allow this, she decided. Holding Lexa in sleep was calming, soothing. Of course, it would only be while its cold, she assured herself as she fell into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to talk fanfic with me, feel free to come find me on tumblr under GillyTweed.


	4. You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things come to a head with the appearance of some unwanted visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all will hate me for this next chapter. I prepare for your fury. Although, I would like to remind you that there is an epilogue coming, so please don't kill me yet.

You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Chapter 4

Pairing: Clexa

Rating: Children be wary (K+)

The chill of winter grew harsher as the days went by, prompting Clarke to create a rough door out of one of the many pelts from the bed to trap the heat in. She was careful to leave small gaps for the fires smoke to escape, having no desire to suffocate to death from the acrid fumes. The duo had continued to sleep together regardless of the new found warmth that was now a constant in the cavern. Clarke, of course justified it as comfort for the healing Commander.

In the time that had followed the creation of their new sleeping arrangements, they had decided that Lexa was well enough to try walking, or rather Lexa had. Clarke had gone out to retrieve a few things from a trading post, leaving Lexa to rest peacefully next to the fire, a knife and woodcarving block to entertain herself with. She really hadn’t been gone long, not even an hour, when she had returned to the sight of Lexa, unsteadily standing propped up against the stone wall.

While most of her stitches had been removed, and the bandages reduced to the bare minimum, the brunette was still weak. Muscles having atrophied in their time of inactivity, she shook with the effort to remain upright. The sight of her patient standing made her pause, heart stopping as the blonde observed the other girl wobble. Dropping her bag, she strode over in one wide step, catching the older girl as she collapsed.

The first time she had carried Lexa to the cave, she had been heavy, weighed down by armour, weapons, rain and responsibility. Now, stripped of all those things, she was frail, small and almost weightless. This is what Clarke felt as she clutched the brunette to her chest. She could feel every rib through her thin shirt, despite having ensured the older girl had eaten several times a day. She could feel her frame tremble with a mixture of exhaustion and shock. Swallowing thickly, she helped the weakened warrior back under the beds furs. Lexa’s eyes were downcast as she sat, breathing still unsteady from the effort of standing.

_“I need to return to my warriors, Oyen.”_

Her voice was horse and thick with emotion.

_“I have been here for over two weeks, and as enjoyable as it has been, my people need me.”_

It was true. They did. During her brief excursions to the trading posts during Lexa’s stay, she had heard news about the war with the Ice Nation. For the first few days she had heard nothing, but soon the rumours of the Heda being missing had spread. The Ice Nation had denied having captured her, as well as claimed no knowledge or certainty of her death. While what they were saying was true, the Coalition warriors had fought even more viciously after the loss of their leader. While this had pushed the Ice Nations forces back initially, for all their effort, the war was now at a stalemate, and had been for the past week or so if the information she had gathered was up to date.

Kneeling next to the bed she looked at Lexa’s profile sadly, the brunette avoiding her gaze. While she had healed in almost record time considering her numerous injuries, she was weak. There was no getting around the fact. While initially, Lexa hadn’t pressed the topic of returning that much, knowing how extensive her wounds were, Clarke knew that eventually the stubborn leader would force the issue if she had to.

Sighing, she nodded and held out her hand. If Lexa needed to, at the very least, start walking, Clarke would help the brunette, rather than leave her to her own devices and possibly become injured further. She watched as Lexa turned, mouth slightly agape, in surprise, as her expression morphed into affection, happiness and determination, each flitting across her features in quick succession before settling on the last. Reaching out, the warrior gripped Clarkes hand, ready to attempt standing a second time.

With little effort the blonde had lifted her patient to her feet, slipping the other girls arm around her shoulders, as well as her own arm around the brunette’s waist. She could feel the jutting bones of her hips, sharp and only covered by skin. Most of her muscle had been drained away by her healing body, leaving her little more than skin and bones. While her quick healing reduced her recovery time, it seemed to take a toll for its convenience.

In the next week after her first walking attempt, Lexa slowly grew stronger. Hobbling slowly, at first with Clarkes help, short distances, then working her way up. Soon enough, she could leave the cave, walking longer and longer distances as time wore on, although never going far from the cave. While the war was at a stand still, warriors from both sides wandered the forests, and the risk of meeting an enemy was too great, especially while she was in such an injured state.

However, despite her stubbornness, Lexa was human, and thus she would grow exhausted quickly, resulting in frequent afternoon naps. It was during one of these naps that Clarke had decided to leave the cave to visit a trading post. Something she would regret.

Everything had seemed normal enough. There weren’t any signs of warriors from either side of the clan conflict, and her trading had gone smoothly. However, as she began her walk back to their little cave, a cold feeling settled in her stomach. It wasn’t unlike the feeling she had gotten when Lexa had been close to becoming hypothermic, but it felt heavier, more threatening. Quickening her pace, she almost rushed to the cave. A feeling of fear closed her throat. The bag she carried, filled with meat, fruit and herbs, pounded against her back as she ran. She hoped that her dread was irrational. That she would find Lexa peacefully sleeping, or sitting on a log near the cave after a brief walk, with no signs of danger in sight.

Swinging herself around a tree towards the cliff face that held the cave, her breath caught in her throat. The fur that she had carefully placed over the caves entrance had been torn down and thrown to the wind. It fluttered, stuck against a bush a few feet from the stone opening. Her heart pounded as she drew closer, filling her ears with the sound of rushing blood. She drew her carving knife, the long blade glinting in the weak afternoon sunlight. The sound of the snow crunching under her boots felt too loud, as though even the people at the trading post almost a mile away could hear it.

Swallowing, she set down her pack gently by the bush covered in the fur, listening to the sounds of rough Trigedasleng that flowed from the caves entrance. There were at least two of them in the cave with Lexa, their voices masculine and filled with a gloating air. Every now and then she could hear the brunettes voice ring sharply through the cave, hostility dripping from her words. Whoever had found their little hide away were definitely not friendly.

Adjusting her grip on her knifes leather wrapped handle, she breathed deeply, then sprang. Remaining low she entered the now very full cave and slide the razer sharp blade into the soft flesh of a neck. Blood sprayed as the man howled, gurggled and convulsed. Wrenching the knife free, Clarke dropped the body to the ground, moving on to the next invader. However, this one was ready, dodging away from her knifes swipe, spinning around her to the entrance of the cave, effectively blocking the exit. However, it also got him away from Lexa, who had been sat, back pressed to the cave wall, sword poised threateningly in both hands. At the sight of Oyen separating her from the immediate threat, Lexa sighed in relief, slumping slightly, and lowered her weapon.

The warrior was easily recognizable as Ice Nation. Scars patterned his face, in a design reminiscent of the tattoos of the tree people. War paint was smeared across his wide forehead and square jaw, creating a threatening image. He held two long daggers in his fists, poised for attack as he examined his dead companion in quick glances.

Finally, after determining thoroughly that his partner was beyond saving, the warrior returned his full attention to his targets. Clenching his jaw, he examined the new threat, taking in the sight of the skull mask and wild dyed hair. Finally, determining that a physical altercation may not be the best course of action, he attempted bargaining.

_“My Kwin has been looking for her. I’m sure if you let me take her, the Kwin will reward you greatly.”_

Clarke tried her best to translate quickly, not used to the quick delivery of the grounder language. However, despite it being as quick as she could, it still looked as though she were considering the option, remaining rigid as she did so.

_“Oyen?”_

Lexa’s voice was filled with wariness, drained of all the confidence and hostility she had had when just in the presence of the two warriors. Clarke could feel the edge of betrayal behind the one word. The blonde swallowed. Lexa was relying on her, just as Clarke had at the mountain, and now the younger girl was being faced with a deal. Granted, thousands of lives didn’t ride on it, but more her own satisfaction.

Huffing, she relaxed and stepped aside, allowing the warrior a clear path to his bounty. A wicked grin had split across his face, showing cracked teeth. A fearful gasp had sounded from behind her as Lexa had struggled into a standing position, raising her sword shakily.

Clarke narrowed her eyes as the warrior passed. His weapons had dropped as soon as she had stepped aside, confident that he could take a weak and injured Commander. Turning her head so her back still faced the two, but she could see what was happening out of her peripherals, she waited for the right moment to strike. While Lexa had betrayed her, Clarke had no intention of doing so. If anything, she was going to do what Lexa should have done. Return after the initial betrayal, using the deal as a guise for a surprise attack.

Once the warrior was almost within Lexa’s striking distance did she move, suddenly seeing red, she whipped around and lunged, sinking her dagger into the bulk of his back as a possessive snarl ripped from her throat. The sound was feral, malicious, surprising Clarke just as much as the warrior with finding a knife in his back. The man quickly spun around, Clarke spinning with him as she clung to his back; mask flying from her face as he turned. Disregarding her now exposed face, she wrests the knife from his skin and she stabs down again, this time in his neck.

Down he went, blood pouring from the wound. She holds him down with her weight, keeping her blade firmly within the wound until his convulsions ceased. After the light drains from his eyes, she came back to herself, the red mist fading from her vision and her breathing was beginning to calm. Without the familiar weight of her mask on her face, she froze. The mask was behind her. On the ground, probably inches from the one person she didn’t want to see her face. Had she seen her face? Was that why she was so quiet?

_“Oyen? Did they hurt you?”_

She wanted to sag with relief, but couldn’t. Lexa didn’t know her identity but the blonde was all too aware of the shuffling steps growing nearer. She needed to make a decision. She could stay, and reveal herself to be Clarke, or she could run. The older girl was healed enough that she could probably make it to a nearby trading post or village, and Clarke had probably just killed the only scouts in the area. Swallowing, she could feel panic well up in her chest.

Did she want Lexa to know who she was? Yes, but was she ready for it? Hell no. Standing slowly, she swallowed. She could feel Lexa right behind her, concern radiating off her in tangible waves.

_“Oyen?”_

Her voice was quiet, uncertain. Using her hair to cover her face, the blonde took in the sight of Lexa, one last time, appearing the strongest she had ever been since the first night. Her decision made, she sheathed her blade and ran. Sprinting from the cave, trying to block out Lexa’s voice as she called after her. She would return to her eventually, but now wasn’t the time. Her feelings were still too raw for the emotional storm that would certainly ensue. She wasn’t ready for that yet, but she would be. She would always return to Lexa. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, there will be an epilogue. If you want to talk fanfic with me, feel free to find me on my tumblr at GillyTweed.


	5. You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final leg of Clarke's journey comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You all are going to hate me. Nuff said, but do read the end notes please.

You Ask My Name (And All I do is Listen) epilogue

Pairing: Clexa

Rating: A-okay for kiddies (K)

The first warm breezes of spring danced across the skin of Clarke’s bare arms. Mud squelched from under her boots as she traversed the dirt road leading to Polis. She had discarded her heavy furs as chinooks had warmed the land and prompted new growth, and urging her to change her wardrobe to something more fitting. Fitting, not just for the weather, but to show how she herself had changed. Now she was clad in a pair of black pants and boots, as well as a vest that left her arms exposed to the beating sun. She had even changed her hair, leaving it dyed but had pulled it up into a low pony tail. It was a gentle mix of Clarke and Oyen, a balance of her emotions and state of mind. With this new balance, she felt ready to return, to stand in front of Lexa as an equal in both mind and body. She felt at peace.

With the return of Lexa, the war had been quickly suppressed. The newly returned Commander reaffirming her prowess in combat as Coalition forces quickly drove back the Ice Nation warriors with new found strength. Now only boarder skirmishes seemed to be taking place, leaving the roads clear for travel, allowing civilian life to return to some semblance of normalcy.

As she approached the gates of Polis, she felt her stomach clench with nerves. She might believe herself to be ready, but that didn’t make her any less anxious. Trying to distract herself, she examined the capital. During her travels, she had avoided this place, avoided Lexa, so the sheer size of it was astonishing to her. She had seen the Commanders tower, its fire burning brightly, from miles down the road. At first she had thought it was an incredibly large signal fire on the side of one of the surrounding mountains, but no, it had been on the top of the largest building she had ever seen on the ground. The buildings sprawled beneath it stretched for miles, creating a maze of houses, shops, abandoned buildings and a number of other things that Clarke couldn’t even think to name. In all, Polis was glorious. It made her want to break out a sketch book and capture its beauty on countless pages. However, she had a job to do first, and a very distinct lack of a sketchbook.

Passing under the arches of the open gates, she adjusted her new mask, flowing with the crowds entering and exiting the city. She had carved a second mask, similar to her old one, as an almost security blanket. The anonymity had served her well in dodging people she didn’t want to see just yet, and it wasn’t uncommon for people to cover their faces, whether they were civilian or warrior so there was no risk of looking suspicious. The guards didn’t even glance her way as she shuffled along. A face amongst the crowd.

Making her way through the main street, she continued toward the tower. Even though the city was big, the gates far from the towers main entrance, there was a main road that stretched for almost a mile all the way to the main court yard of the tower. Lined with shops and merchant stalls, the road had become a trading hub, filled to the brim with wares from all the clans. Despite the unique sights, sounds and smells, Clarke continued on, determined to not run away any longer. She had been angry for so long, she knew it was time to let things go, to put her conflicts to rest.

Nearing the court yard, she swallowed, butterflies raging even more fiercely within the depths of her stomach. With what she hoped were steady, even strides, she approached the main door. Adjusting her bag over her shoulder, she watched as the guards flanking the entrance called for her to halt.

_“What is your business here?”_

One guard demanded. His tone was wary but not outright hostile. Licking her dry lips under her mask, she responded in shaky Trigedasleng, voice croaking from months of disuse.

_“Please tell the Commander that the one known as Oyen wishes to see her.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm thinking of doing a oneshot sequel for this, to give a bit more closure than i actually did. please comment and give your opinion on this. If you want to talk fanfiction with me feel free to come and find me on tumblr under the name GillyTweed


	6. Authors note: Sequel is up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the sequel is up, i repeat the sequel is up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall can have your closure now cause the sequel has been posted

this is a note for those who follow this story but not me specifically. the sequel to this fic is now posted and can be found on my profile. Hopefully it'll give you all the closure you all desire. It's name is You Know My Name (And Now I Speak)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i mention theres a sequel?

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to talk fanfic with me, feel free to come and find me on my tumblr under GillyTweed.


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